


Let me treasure you

by Miss_Kitten



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 03:29:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8385466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Kitten/pseuds/Miss_Kitten
Summary: Reader got hurt on a mission and her return takes longer than expected. That makes Aragorn grow sick with worry but when she comes back he does his best to welcome her properly.





	

Aragorn is out, on a mission to scout the surroundings to make sure there is no threat crawling in the shadows. His mind however is somewhere else, far away from the perimeter he is looking at, seemingly scanning the field with his eyes.

His mind is completely set on you.

You have gone, almost three months ago, on a quest to check further lands and slay whatever was awaiting there. Along with four other Rangers, you have encountered few Orcs but managed to fight them off successfully. Yet, you got injured – orc’s blade met your lower back and you had to be taken to a healer.

But it was a month ago and Aragorn was growing more and more impatient with every day passing by. There was no news on you and the others, no letter or any kind of information came and Aragorn was slowly accepting that you might have passed from your injury.

The relationship between you and him was not a secret among others. Ever since you have arrived, every male was somehow trying to gain your attention, was it only a brief glance or a conversation. You never appeared to be interested in any kind of closer relation, entirely focused on your training. More than once you have proven that, despite being a woman, you were worth more than some of men.

And so, he was more than surprised when one evening a knock on his door pulled him from cleaning his sword and when he opened it he saw you, clad in nothing but mid-thigh long white undershirt with your eyes filled with hope. There weren’t many words shared that night yet from those whispered ones he put together timid ‘I need you’ and that was enough for both of you.

Now, as his thoughts are replying those moments over and over again, his gut clenches with worry, a tight knot making it harder to breathe, to think straight, to carry on. What if your wound turned out to be lethal? What if you were attacked and fell? What if you got lost on your way back? More and more ‘what if’s are forming in his head, every one of them worse than the other.

“Aragorn,” his companion’s call snaps him out of his reverie and Aragorn turns his head to meet concerned gaze, “are you fine? You seem to be quite distracted.”

“I am fine,” Aragorn assures. His companion comes closer and puts a hand on Aragorn’s shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly.

“She is well. She’s stronger than most of us, we both know that,” he says softly and Aragorn gives him a tight, forced smile.

“Thank you,” he replies quickly, “we should be heading back. Night is to fall soon,” and with that Aragorn starts to walk, not bothering to check if the other ranger follows. He doesn’t need compassion, doesn’t want their pity. Not until there is still hope that you will come back.

____

It takes one more week for you and your other rangers to return. You don’t see Aragorn in a small gathering that came to welcome you but you are quite sure that you know where he is.

Most likely, he is sitting in your small room, thinking that it may be a kind of substitute of you. He’s done it before – after one short mission you found him laying in your bed with your pillow snuggled close to him. It made you smile fondly – he may occur to be almost emotionless, cold and stern, but around you he was tender and loving, allowing himself to forget about the façade he puts on.

After exchanging few ‘hello’s and gentle hugs with the rangers you excuse yourself telling that you need rest (which is not really a lie) and walk to your room. You try not to rush, but your emotions take the best of you and you are almost running, unable to contain yourself. You cannot lie – you have missed Aragorn so much it physically aches you.

Once you are at your door, you push it open firmly, a wide gleeful smile spreading on your lips as you notice him sitting on your bed, his fingers grazing your pillow gingerly.

You close the door behind yourself and close the distance between you and him, stopping as you reach him and placing your arms around his neck. You tip your head and kiss the top of his head, sighing as the warmth from his body creeps on yours.

“I feared you will not come back,” he whispers, his voice tight and it breaks your heart when you realized he must have been worried sick about you.

“A pitiful orc’s dagger is not enough to take me down,” you say teasingly and Aragorn scoffs, shaking his head.

“Aye, Y/N, but-“ he starts yet doesn’t finish, the sadness and worry in his eyes however tell you everything you need to know.

“I will be more careful, I promise,” you vow and kiss his head again, chuckling when Aragorn snakes his arms around your waist and pulls you onto his lap. His lips, once pursed into thin line, are now forming a beautiful grin, his eyes, no longer concerned, are sparkling with affection and you feel warmth and happiness rushing through you. At last, you feel safe.

“How bad is it?” he asks and you shrug.

“It did not feel as nasty as it looked like. It left a scar, I’m afraid.”

“May I see?”

You’re hesitant for a moment, unsure if you should let him. The healer did what was in his might, yet there was a thick scar on your smaller back, an unwanted remainder of the fight.

After a moment, you stand up and begin to unlace your corset. You drop it onto the floor, then tug on your undershirt, lifting it enough for Aragorn to gaze at the mark.

You shiver when you feel his fingers travel over it.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, his breath fanning on the exposed skin, sending a shot of electricity up your spine.

“No, not anymore,” you answer and before he can stop you, strip out of the undershirt, making a quick work with disrobing yourself. Aragorn helps you a little, eagerly rolling black leather pants down your legs, along with your underwear.

His lips are fast to attach to your skin, not giving you a chance to even turn around. He begins at the small of your back, trailing delicate, chaste kisses over the scar, then up your spine. His hands are gentle as they wander up your sides, calloused fingers touching and exploring, stroking deliberately, just in the spots he knows you like.

You feel him rise and you reach for his hands to move them onto your stomach. Heat pools between your legs as Aragorn nibbles on your earlobe. You arch into his touch as he cups your breasts, kneading the flesh and thumbing against your erected nipples.

“I have missed you so, my brave, beautiful darling,” he purrs, licking a line down your neck and onto your shoulder and with one hand you grasp on his thigh, the other flies into his hair, tugging gently as he suckles a bruise on your skin.

“You are wearing too much clothes, Aragorn,” you pant, hearing him chuckle against your skin. His hands and mouth leave your body and you turn around to help him get rid of his clothes, which are thrown on a pile on top of yours.

You rise on your feet to kiss him, a slow, passionate pace of your lips molding into his sends shivers all over your skin and you weave your arms around his neck to bring him closer. Aragorn gladly obliges, deepening the kiss as he slips his tongue into your open mouth.

He presses you closer to him and you moan into his mouth as you feel his hard rock member. It have been far too long without his touch and you can barely bear the lust you are feeling.

You bite his lower lip, making him hiss but he catches the hint. Aragorn pushes you backwards until you land on the bed with quiet _puff_ yet before he hover over you, you roll onto your stomach, lifting your hips a little as you spread your legs.

You hear him hum, his hands land on your backside, squeezing it firmly. You cry out his name when his fingers slide along your clit, teasing at your entrance, and then they’re gone, too quick for your liking and you whine, resting your head on your folded arms, waiting for Aragorn to continue.

Soon enough, you are granted with a delicious feeling of the head of his cock rubbing against your sweet bud, coating in your arousal. He still keeps a grip on your ass – you know very well that Aragorn loves taking you from behind.

You buck your hips to let him know that you’re ready and he pushes into you, filling you slowly, inch by inch his thick, throbbing dick buries inside you and you grasp on the sheets, moaning wantonly.

He gives you a moment to adjust and when your walls clench around him, he grunts, sliding out almost entirely before thrusting back. His pumps are deep, his pace steady and relentless and you know you will not last long. He grabs your hips roughly, not faltering in his movements.

Aragorn lifts your hips slightly and new angle allows to go deeper, hitting on your sweet spot over and over again as he quickens his pace a bit. Your high-pitched moans are driving him crazy, the sound of his skin slapping against yours fueling your quickly approaching climax and with three more thrusts you’re there.

You chant his name as pure bliss crashes through you, making your mind go blank. Your walls pulsated around him, sending Aragorn over the edge right behind you – he jerks his hips once before he empties himself deep within you, growling your name loudly.

He collapses on you, peppering your shoulder blade and neck with soft kisses as both of you are going down from your height.

“I will draw you a bath,” he says after a while, his voice husky and low.

“Us, you meant to say. You are joining me, of course.”

“As you wish, my sweet,” he kisses you on the lips when you turn your head to look at him before making his way to the small bathroom. You can hear as he moves there, filling the wooden bathtub with warm water and you sigh with content.

It is good to be home.


End file.
